Fic: Cold December's Winds Were Stilled (1/2)

[melyanna]

Title: Cold December's Winds Were Stilled
Author: Melyanna
Summary: On Christmas Eve, a blizzard hits Atlantis, bringing the town to a standstill and leaving Kate and Marcus trapped for the duration of the storm as they reach a crucial point in their courtship.
Pairing: Kate/Lorne (with some light Laura/Carson and John/Elizabeth)
Rating: PG13
Chronology: Between "Deals with Weddings" and "Quintessential".
Notes: The winter of 1880-1881 was one of the most severe winters the American Midwest has seen since white settlers began to populate the Great Plains. Small towns all over the plains were caught unawares by storm after storm, and few were truly prepared to survive it. Digging out rail lines became such an enormous undertaking that some lines were abandoned entirely till spring, leaving towns further west stranded without sources of food or coal through the long, cold months, and the storms did not let up until well into the spring. While I'm not certain this AU has reached the year 1880, that season was the inspiration for this story, along with miera_c, who is to blame for all manner of good ideas.

One of the best accounts of this period is a children's book by Laura Ingalls Wilder, The Long Winter, set in De Smet, South Dakota. While she did somewhat exaggerate the frequency of the snowstorms, this book is considered the most historically accurate of the Little House series, down to the heroic act of Cap Gardner and Almanzo Wilder (the author's eventual husband), who risked their lives to save the town from starvation.

The title comes from a traditional Catalan Christmas carol. miera_c is, as usual, an awesome beta.


Storms in this part of the world came in as many different types as women did. There were gentle spring showers, morning storms with just a hint of thunder in the distance, tempests with lightning and hail and torrents. There were snowstorms too, anywhere from beautiful shows of snowflakes to storms so fierce they would bury a man alive.

Marcus Lorne had lived in Atlantis long enough to know which kind of storm was approaching. Thus far in his life he'd not learned how to tell different kinds of women apart, and he didn't really figure on ever developing that skill.

He'd been attempting to court Kate for a long time, but it hadn't really started to work until autumn, when Kate's husband had appeared. The bastard had been dead for a few months now, but there were times when it was obvious that the man was not far from Kate's mind. There had always been times when she was distant with him, but Marcus found it something of a relief now to know why. At least she didn't shy away from his attempts to comfort her.

He had started going through more formal courtship rituals with her, making sure the whole town was aware of what was going on, as that actually prevented quite a lot of rumors. For Kate he would do anything to keep her free from undue scrutiny. He'd even started going to church again on occasion, something he hadn't done since the war. He wanted to make sure that when he asked her to be his wife, he wouldn't catch her off-guard this time.

Of course, this time, there would be no obstacles between them.

They were on their way from the church to Vala's restaurant on Christmas Eve when the wind turned violent. The storm hit hard and fast, snow and ice pelting them mercilessly, and all thoughts of a comfortable supper were forgotten. Marcus wrapped his arm around Kate's shoulders and steered her toward his house. As long as the winds didn't shift direction, the larger building that housed his workshop might shelter his house from the worst of the drifts and drafts.

As soon as they were inside, the door shut securely, Marcus moved to stoke a fire in the fireplace. Kate stayed near a window, holding back the plain curtains to watch the world outside. "Have you ever seen a storm like this?" she asked.

"Once," he replied. "The first winter I was here. It came on us sudden like this and went on several days."

"Days?" Kate turned to him, alarm in her eyes and her voice. "I can't leave with a storm like this raging, and if it lasts for days..."

She trailed off, and Marcus stood from the fire. "I know," he said. "I'm sorry. I should have taken you to Miss Weir or the Becketts. I was just thinking of getting out of it as quickly as possible."

He came nearer to her and saw how flakes of snow had melted in her golden hair, like tiny diamonds in the firelight. Kate bit at her lip for a moment, and he smiled gently, hoping to put her at ease. "Can I take your coat?" he asked.

Silently she nodded, and he tried not to watch too closely as she unbuttoned her coat. He helped her shrug out of it, and while he hung it up, Kate moved toward the fire. She was holding her hands out to warm them, grasping at the fingers of one hand and then the other. Marcus came to her side then and gently took her hands in his, bending to blow on them. When his warm breath touched her fingers, he could feel her tense. But she made no move to stop him.

When he had finished, he closed his hands around hers. He stood straight, letting his gaze wander up lazily up to her face. Kate was watching him shyly, but as their eyes met, he saw a determination form in her expression.

He stood stock still as Kate stretched up to kiss him.

They'd kissed before, of course. They'd even sneaked off after Doc Beckett and his bride had left their wedding reception, tumbling around in the hayloft of a barn, laughing and kissing and touching until Kate had stopped him, suddenly uncomfortable. Since that evening, they'd both been a little more guarded with each other.

But now, they were trapped alone together until the weather cleared.

Though he dearly loved the soft, eager press of her mouth against his, Marcus made himself pull away. Kate gave him a knowing look, squeezing his hands. "You're still cold," he said. "I'll make you some tea."

It became clear soon enough that Kate had to get out of some of her layers of clothing. Fighting her way through the onslaught of snow had made her clothes quite wet, and she really needed to hang them up to dry. Marcus had gone into his bedroom while she pulled off her stockings and petticoats and hung them near the fire. He returned a few minutes later with a pair of his socks and a thick quilt.

She was grateful for both as she sat in the small kitchen, the quilt tucked around her legs and feet near the stove. Marcus had made her another cup of tea, and he sat down on a low stool a few feet away. "Are you warm enough?" he asked.

Kate nodded. "Unless you have dry petticoats lying about somewhere, we've both done as much as possible at the moment," she replied. "And if you do have dry petticoats lying about somewhere, we have other things to talk about."

She raised her eyebrows at her last words, which made him chuckle. "The only petticoats in this house are yours," he told her, patting her knee fondly.

But the touch sent something else through her. In all truth, she felt faintly immodest without all the proper undergarments on. As a seamstress Kate knew that the reason for wearing petticoats was to give the proper silhouette and drape to a dress, but there was a strange safety derived from all those layers of clothing. Marcus had never made her feel endangered, but at the moment she was a little afraid of her own self-restraint.

More times than she could count, she'd woken with memories of vivid dreams in her head, dreams of bringing him a cup of tea on a cold evening after supper, of sitting with him in front of the fire and sewing a little while he told her of his day, of lying in his arms at night. Once or twice she'd even dreamt of carrying his child within her. When she woke in the middle of the night, it was hard to forget the imagined feeling of his hands against her belly, rounded with child. Sometimes the dreams left her with desires that made her body tense and alert for a long time.

"Kate?" Marcus said, drawing her from her thoughts. He was frowning. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing," Kate said, tucking her feet under her chair and pulling the quilt tighter across her legs.

"You're blushing," he pointed out.

"Am I?" she asked, raising her hand to her cheeks. Her face felt hot against her fingers.

Marcus chuckled. "What were you thinking about, Kate?" he asked.

She could feel herself blushing further. His smile transformed into a smirk. After an awkward pause, he got up and took her mug away. "Well," he said at last, "I'm glad I'm not the only one with thoughts tending in that direction."

She slipped out of the kitchen then, and though her petticoats were still slightly damp, she took the undergarments to the bedroom and put them back on. Marcus was standing in the door to the kitchen when she came out, waiting for her. "What is it?" she asked, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Just thinking about sleeping arrangements," he said. He'd grabbed the quilt she'd been using in the kitchen, and he was folding it up. "You'll take the bedroom, of course. I'll sleep out here."

And the thought of spending the night in his bed, even without him in it too, was enough to make her blush again.

They shared a small supper, neither of them being very hungry. By virtue of living alone all these years, Marcus had learned how to cook rather well, as the alternative was eating lousy food all the time, but cooking for Kate made him strangely nervous. Playing host had never been his strong suit.

Night fell early during the Colorado winter, and Kate decided to go to bed an hour or so after the lamps were lit. Marcus had a chest in his bedroom full of blankets and quilts, all made for him by his sisters before he left Pennsylvania to go west. He opened it up for Kate, letting her pull out as many as she wanted before grabbing a few for himself. He watched curiously as her fingers ran over the patches of fabric pieced together in various designs.

He tried to tell himself that she was judging the construction of the quilts, as a seamstress herself, but he knew that was not the case, especially when she lifted up a beautiful quilt he'd never used, one with intricate flowers almost as lifelike as he could paint. His sister Rebecca had made that one, not intended for him, but for the wife he would eventually find out west. It was too feminine for a bachelor, and he could tell that Kate knew why he had it.

Long after they'd parted for different rooms and extinguished the lamps, Marcus was awake, trying to distract himself from Kate's presence in his house - in his bed, a voice whispered in the back of his mind - by going over what provisions he had stored up and how long they would last.

Coal would likely be the only issue. He had wood enough to cook with, and probably to last a long while if they burned it to heat the house, but coal would heat the house much better than a wood fire. He had plenty of coal in his shop next door, but he was only going out into the storm if there was an emergency.

There was enough food for both of them to last several days, and with all the snow outside water would hardly be an issue. He had a number of chores in the house that needed to be done as well, so he wouldn't be lacking in occupation, even if Kate was.

Without thinking, he got up from the couch and quietly walked to the door to his bedroom. The fireplace in the sitting room was still lit, casting a little light through the open doorway. Her dress was neatly draped over a chair, her shoes next to it. Kate looked so small under all the blankets.

Staring at her like that, his whole being stirred. It wasn't just his desire for her, though that impulse was strong. Since the mess with her husband, his inclination to protect her and take care of her had become almost overwhelming. Kate never told him much about her life before Atlantis and he'd never pushed her for details, but he knew enough and could guess the rest. It was a terrible truth for some women that they lived their lives under tyrannical bastards. Most couldn't get away from those situations. In that respect, Kate had been lucky.

He knew Samuels had hit her. He guessed that she had never had a choice about the marriage bed, and that any resistance on her part had been met with that coward's fists, or worse.

It was that knowledge that made his heart ache. He wanted to crawl into his bed with Kate and just hold her, showing her that even though he was so much stronger than she was, he would never hurt her or force her to do anything against her will.

On the other hand, he didn't entirely trust his own self-control.

Suppressing a sigh, Marcus turned back to the sitting room, settling down on the sofa under a pile of blankets. He slept eventually, and dreamt of her.

Kate awoke the next morning and spent the first startled moment of consciousness wondering where she was. Then she heard the wind howling outside and remembered. She was stranded with Marcus until the storm passed over.

She didn't want to move, aside from burrowing deeper under the quilts. Her nose was quite cold, and that told her enough about the temperature of the room. She shifted a little, letting the blankets come up over her head, and inhaled deeply.

The bed smelled strongly of Marcus. She'd gotten settled under the sheets the previous night and it had been impossible to keep her imagination from running wild. Of course, with the frigid air in the room, she was willing to admit to herself that what she had wanted most was the warmth radiating from his body. The wind seeped into the house, despite its excellent construction, and another person in the bed might serve as a barrier to the bitter cold.

She heard movement outside the room and finally pulled herself out of bed. She had left the door half-open the night before, in an effort to let in heat from the fire in the sitting room, but it was closed now. Looking around, Kate saw that Marcus had brought in a basin and pitcher for her. She couldn't help but smile.

As quickly as she could, she washed her face and neck and dressed herself, then hurried to the kitchen to help Marcus with their breakfast.

They managed to keep themselves busy and cheerful until well after dinner. Marcus had had so much work to do in his shop next door that some of his chores in the house had fallen behind. In fact, it was the middle of the afternoon before Kate abruptly remembered that when the snow had started, they had been on their way out of church - out of the Christmas Eve service. That meant it was Christmas Day, and the thought made her laugh.

"What is it?" Marcus asked her, looking over from where he was wiping down the inside of a window.

"It's Christmas!" she reminded him. "I know we've got food enough to feed us well for days, but there was a big supper planned at the church. I guess that won't happen now."

Marcus was quiet for a moment. "There'll be no seeing the Christmas tree there either," he remarked.

Kate nodded. She had seen it the previous evening, of course, but it had not yet been decorated, and there were no candles lit on it. It wasn't the same without all of its trappings.

She came up to the window in front of him and looked out, not that there was much she could see. Marcus looked down at her and smiled. "Think we can manage Christmas on our own this year?"

Kate laughed a little. "I don't see that we have much choice in the matter." Then she sobered, remembering that they were cut off from everything. "My present for you is at my house, though. We can't exchange gifts today."

He smiled just a little. "We'll manage."

Their Christmas supper was not as elaborate or varied as it would have been had the storm not hit, had they been able to go to the church potluck, but Kate thought she preferred staying in like this, with only the wind to interrupt their conversation. When they were finished, they cleaned up after themselves, though Marcus left Kate alone with the dishes to be washed for a few moments.

When everything was put away again, they settled in the sitting room, where Marcus stoked the fire and then pulled out his Bible. The leather binding was stiff, but Kate didn't say anything about it. She knew Marcus had not truly been a church-going man for a long time.

Instead, Kate opened the Bible to the gospel of Luke and began to read of the birth of Jesus. Some of the verses were so familiar to her that she did not need the text before her to tell the story. "'For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord,'" she could recite. "'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'"

Marcus moved a little closer, setting his arm around Kate and looking down at the pages of the Bible he so rarely used. Eventually she leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder as she read of the shepherds, then turned to Matthew to read of the wise men, of Herod killing the innocent children in Bethlehem, of Joseph and Mary's escape to Egypt.

When she finished, she closed the Bible and rested her hands on it. Marcus turned to kiss the top of her head. Kate snuggled closer into his side. It was growing colder in the house.

Finally, he took the Bible from her lap and set it aside, retrieving a small package as he did so. "I know you said you don't have a present to give to me right now," he said, "but I don't think I can wait till after the storm to give this to you."

It wasn't wrapped, and Kate knew immediately that the box held jewelry of some kind in it. A ring? Surely not - surely he would not propose to her now while they were trapped together like this.

But the box seemed a little large for a ring, and opening it confirmed that thought. Kate still gasped, though. Inside the box, lying on a tuft of white silk, was a delicate silver brooch, with small sapphires set in the shape of a flower. "Oh, Marcus, it's beautiful," she told him. "Where on earth did you get it?" She couldn't think of any store in town that carried jewelry so lovely.

"I got it in Colorado Springs when I went there about a month back," he explained. "They get so many fancy English tourists through there to see Pike's Peak that they've got all kinds of things to buy that we don't normally see here."

Kate ran her finger around the edge of the brooch. "It's beautiful," she repeated.

"I'm glad you like it."

His voice was low, and she could feel the tones reverberating in his chest. Closing the box, she turned to look up at him. She could tell that he'd been nervous about giving it to her.

Kate rested her hand against his chest for balance as she twisted around to kiss him. He caught her around the waist to help keep her upright, and his other hand cradled the back of her head. He made a soft, contented sound as she pulled away, and Kate thought it had been a long time since she had seen Marcus so free from worry, at least where she was concerned.

She touched his cheek gently, brushing her knuckles against his stubble. "Merry Christmas, Marcus," she said.

Unexpectedly, he pulled her into a close embrace and whispered, "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

That evening, while Kate lit the lamps, Marcus stepped out to the lean-to to bring more wood in for the fire. They were almost out of coal, but his coal supply was in his shop and would require braving the storm to fetch it.

Mentally, he made a note to do a better job of keeping adequate coal in the house, especially at this time of year.

Marcus walked back into the room, but he nearly dropped the wood stacked in his arms upon seeing Kate in front of the fire. She had taken her hair down.

He could count on one hand the number of females he'd ever seen with loose hair, which included three of his four sisters. Even little girls wore their hair in braids. Some of it was a matter of practicality, but generally speaking, respectable women did not let anyone see them with hair loose. Some would even call it wanton.

Marcus suspected that Kate would look like a proper lady in a burlap sack, but she certainly looked different now. Her hair was many shades of gold, like perfectly dried straw under an autumn sun. It was not neat and tidy like usual, but hung thick and loose down her back, well past her waist.

Kate turned then and caught him staring. Marcus looked away, moving toward the fireplace to deposit the load of wood into the wood box. She pursed her lips, but she didn't have to ask why he was staring, thankfully. "I was going to braid my hair before going to bed," she told him. "I don't suppose you have a comb somewhere I can borrow?"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "I'm unmarried, not completely uncivilized, Kate," he told her.

She laughed as he went to his room to retrieve his comb.

She had a bit of a battle on her hands, though. Marcus only watched her struggle with the tangles for a few moments before calling her softly. "Kate."

She turned, and he patted his footstool with one hand and held out the other for the comb. Kate came to him without a word and sat down on the footstool demurely, her back to him. Marcus took the comb from her and began to work through the tangles as gently as he could.

It took a long time, but when he was finished, her hair was smooth and almost gleaming in the firelight. Kate didn't move right away, so Marcus set aside the comb and inched closer to her. Pulling her hair out of his way, he slowly pressed a kiss against the base of her neck.

He wanted to do much more than that, but Kate stiffened a little. "Marcus," she said, reaching up to take his hand, which was resting on her shoulder. "We shouldn't."

"I know," he replied. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if she wanted to give in to the temptation surrounding them. They were alone, after all, and the blizzard was showing no signs of letting up. But he didn't ask her, fearing her answer either way.

Kate rose then. Not looking at him, she said, "I should probably braid my hair before it gets tangled again."

When she returned from the bedroom, her hair was tightly plaited. Marcus tried to keep his attention elsewhere until bedtime.

The day after Christmas, the winds were still howling like a wounded animal. Kate's heart sank when she woke and realized she likely had another day of being trapped in this house. It was not that she did not enjoy the time with Marcus, but things were becoming awkward between them in a way she did not like. To top it off, she was getting very, very bored.

She found a book and read all morning. Then after dinner, Marcus said something that nearly made her heart stop.

"We're out of coal. I'm going to get more."

So surprised was she by this announcement that Marcus had his coat and boots on before she found the will to protest. "Marcus, this is crazy," Kate told him, coming up to him. "We have wood enough for several days -"

"And what if this storm doesn't let up for several days, Kate?" he asked. "I've never seen a blizzard this severe out in Colorado."

"We've been having blizzards since October," she reminded him.

"I know, Kate, but -" He paused for a moment and cupped her face with his hands. "It's not far, and I left the clothesline strung up between the house and my shop. I'll not wander out into the prairie between here and there."

The thought of that made Kate's throat constrict for a moment, but she checked herself. Something made her think Marcus was holding something back. "What is it?"

He looked guilty for a moment and then looked down. "Someone really ought to look in on the horses."

None of the animals in the stable on the other side of his shop were his, but he often looked after them when he wasn't busy. He was also the nearest person to the horses at the moment. Kate shook her head, but she didn't tell him no. "You be careful," she said. "Come back to me as quick as you can."

He nodded once, kissed her, and headed out into the storm.

Kate simply stood there at the door for a long time. Part of her was sure that he would see how foolish this errand was and that he would turn back quickly. Finally, though, she found the urge to move again and headed to the kitchen to fix a cup of tea. Marcus would need it when he returned.

She stoked the fires in the fireplace and the stove. Marcus was right about coal making a better fire for heat, but Kate still couldn't quite reconcile that with the enormous risk he was taking. The buildings weren't so far apart from each other that she worried about him getting off course and ending up frozen to death in the prairie outside the town, but it was freezing in the house. How much worse was it outside the house?

She was pretending not to strain for any noise above the wailing of the storm, but a sudden thump against the side of the house startled her. She ran out of the kitchen in time to see Marcus open the door and beat a shoe against the door frame, shaking the snow off it before coming in. He was swift to close the door, and he set the coal down and started to unbutton his coat.

Kate hurried up to him and started working the buttons for him. "Thank you," he breathed, pulling his hands away from his coat. He clenched and unclenched fists to get the blood flowing in his extremities again. Kate, meanwhile, removed his coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. She would have knelt to take off his boots too, but Marcus stopped her. "Take care of that," he said, nodding to the winter gear that needed to be hung up to dry.

Kate nodded. "When you get your boots off, go sit by the stove," she ordered. "There's tea for you in the kitchen."

She took care of his coat and fed some of his hard-earned coal into both fires. In his bedroom she managed to find a pair of socks that were not in need of mending, and she brought them and three or four blankets. Marcus was staring blankly at the fire, holding a cup of tea in both hands. After draping the blankets around him, Kate knelt before him and dragged his wet, cold socks off.

"Kate," he said, pulling his feet back from her, "you don't have to do that."

"No, I don't." She reached for one of his feet anyway and began to gently massage some warmth into his frigid toes.

By the time she was satisfied with the temperature of his feet and had put clean, dry socks on him, he had finished the cup of tea. Kate took the empty cup away before abruptly sitting on his lap.

"Kate!" Marcus' voice was much higher than usual.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing as much of herself as she could against him. His body was still so cold. "Wrap the blankets around us, Marcus," she told him.

She could sense his reluctance, even as he brought the blankets around her body and held her tightly. Eventually, though, the tension in his body seemed to drain with the cold. Kate reached up and rubbed his ears gently, bringing some warmth back to them.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Marcus Lorne," she said, a strange roughness in her voice that made him look up. "Promise me."

Silently he nodded, then kissed her slowly and deeply. "I love you," he breathed, when their lips were not an inch apart.

Kate threaded her fingers through his hair. "I'm rather fond of you myself."

He growled at her playfully and kissed her again.

The trek outside had left Marcus much more exhausted than he ever would have imagined. He went to bed early and evidently woke up late, for when he opened his eyes again, he heard noises coming from the kitchen. Some delicious smell was in the air, too.

He got up and drowsily headed to the kitchen. Rubbing his hands through his hair, he watched as Kate flipped over two pancakes before noticing he was there. "Good morning," she said, rather cheerfully. "You were sleeping so soundly that I didn't have the heart to wake you."

Marcus yawned hugely. "You could have waited for me to get up and start breakfast."

"And I'll do my share, Marcus." She lifted a couple pancakes off the griddle and onto a nearby plate. "Besides, I make very good pancakes."

He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her narrow waist, and kissed the base of her neck. "They smell wonderful."

Kate was grinning, and he could see a smudge of flour on her cheek. "Take that to the table," she told him, nodding at the plate stacked with pancakes.

Before doing so, he kissed her cheek and then her temple. "Been a long time since anyone made me breakfast."

When she turned and joined him at the table, she was no longer smiling. A dark look had settled on her face. "It's been a long time since I made breakfast for anyone but myself," she said quietly.

Marcus looked down at his food, suddenly uncomfortable. These last few months, he'd been trying so hard not to say or do anything to remind Kate of her late husband. How could he have been so careless now, when there was so little he could do to distract her from it?

Across the small table, Kate sighed, making him look up. "There's no use in pretending that... that it didn't happen," she said. "As it is, I'm lucky I got out when I did."

He'd thought that for a long time, but something in her tone of voice made him curious. "What do you mean?"

She picked at her food. "He was married twice before he married me," she explained. "I'm fairly certain he killed one wife and the other killed herself. I'm lucky I didn't come to either end. There were certainly times when..."

Her voice trailed off and she looked away, blinking rapidly. Marcus reached across the table and took her hand. She swallowed hard. "The first time he hit me, I thought he was just drunk. I went to church the next morning and prayed for him." Kate paused for a moment, looking back at the table. "It got worse after that, hitting me, or... or forcing himself on me. I just never felt safe again."

They were both quiet for a long time, neither of them touching their food, until Kate drew her hand away. At last, Marcus had to say something. "Kate," he said, in a queer tone, "do you feel safe with me?"

Her expression softened. "Oh, Marcus," she replied, "with you I feel free."

Silence fell again, but this time they slowly began to eat. Kate's cooking was good, but Marcus suspected he would have enjoyed it better had he eaten it warm, and had all his worst suspicions about Kate's marriage not been confirmed.

When they were finished, Marcus insisted on washing the dishes. Kate was more than willing to let him. "I want to get busy darning your socks," she told him. "It took me forever yesterday to find two of your socks that didn't have holes."

"Kate," he said, a mild reproof in his voice, "you don't have to."

"I know. But I want to," she said, kissing his cheek. "Besides, I'm bored."

The rest of the day was a little awkward, or so it seemed to Kate. She'd spent so long keeping Bertram a secret from everyone that it was strange to talk about him at all, let alone about what had passed between them. Marcus had never asked her, but every once in a while in recent months, she had told him things.

She'd never told him this much, though. She'd never told anyone this much.

Perhaps she was imagining it, but Marcus seemed distant with her now. Kate thought that maybe he was trying to give her space, to let her feel as safe with him as she could be. But the tension between them now was as uncomfortable as it was strange. She did not regret telling him, but the relief in his eyes when she'd said she was going to bed was a little unsettling.

Kate could not change it now, though. She'd told him everything, or at least the worst of it, and a small part of her was glad not to hold that secret in anymore.

But that night, she could not sleep.

It was always a mite colder in the bedroom than in the rest of the house. Every morning thus far in the storm Kate had woken in Marcus' bed and not wanted to get out, knowing it was warm under the heavy quilts and not warm anywhere else. Tonight, though, it seemed the winds were blowing through the walls of the house as though they were nothing more than cheap muslin.

On previous nights she'd managed to curl up and fall asleep if she tried not to think too much, but the wind and the cold were so fierce that she couldn't keep her body from tensing up all over. Kate wasn't sure what she was supposed to do to get to sleep, other than pray that the storm would end soon. Eventually she felt like she had no choice. She had to warm up a little or she'd never get any rest.

Shivering, Kate got out of bed, wrapped herself in a quilt, and left the room, leaving the door open behind her. She padded out into the sitting room, where the embers of a fire were still glowing. As silently as possible, she pulled the screen aside and stoked the fire for a moment before kneeling down in front of it, holding her hands out over the small flames.

She hadn't been quiet enough. She'd barely started to feel any warmth in her fingers when she heard Marcus shift around and he said, "Kate? What's going on?"

Kate shifted around and smiled sheepishly. His hair was tousled, clothing rumpled, and he looked perfectly confused about everything. "I'm sorry I woke you."

He pushed himself up to sit. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"It was cold in the bedroom," she offered.

Marcus sighed and rubbed his face with one hand. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

His final word sent a warmth through her that had nothing to do with the fire.

He patted the sofa and she rose obediently, coming to sit beside him, still wrapped up in the quilt from the bed. Marcus pulled his own blankets over them both, holding Kate close enough that she could feel the heat of his body even through all the layers separating them.

She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he brought his hand up to stroke her hair. She might have fallen asleep like that, except his fingers drifted from her hair to her cheek and down to the hollow of her throat. Too tired to be startled, she looked up at him slowly.

Kate had seen a look of desire in his eyes before now. She knew he wanted her because he'd told her as much. But as she looked at him now, she saw something that was unguarded and unchecked this time. As much as he tried to be gentle with her, he also wanted to bed her.

His thumb brushed along her collarbone, and she shivered. "Marcus," she said, feeling strangely bold, "kiss me."

It was enormously improper, but then, the entire situation was. She could tell how much control he was exerting as he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. He was always careful with her, always aware that he was a strong man and that he could hurt her if he didn't check himself. But Kate had been finding her own strength again, thanks to him. She wasn't so much of a china doll as she used to be.

She dragged her fingernails over his scalp, and Marcus groaned. His arm went around her as the kiss changed from something almost chaste to something far less innocent. Though she'd had her flirtations and stolen kisses before her ill-fated marriage, Kate knew that they had been from boys. Marcus... Marcus had hands hardened by work, a mind still filled with memories of the war of his youth, and the desires of a man, not a boy.

Kate pressed herself willingly against his hold. The last few days had been filled with soft kisses and accidental touches. She wanted none of that now. In the dark of the night, wrapped up with him for warmth, Kate wanted him. Since the storm began, she'd gotten a taste of what it might be like to be his wife, to care for him and share in all he had. Now, with his hands ghosting all over her body, her own desires were filling her with heady impulsiveness.

She broke away from his mouth, and in the firelight she could see his disappointment and resignation. But she surprised him, shifting to his lap, straddling him under all the blankets. "Kate?" he managed, his voice tight.

She silenced him by touching his face with both hands, tracing the outline of his forehead, his temples, his cheekbones. He stayed perfectly still, just staring at her as she ran her hands down his jaw and neck. Her hands came to rest against his shoulders, so perfectly strong, and she leaned forward to kiss him deeply.

The kiss broke his spell, like something out of a fairy tale, and his hands began to roam, seeming to burn wherever he touched her. As the kiss melted into another and another and another, the blankets fell away. Kate was almost grateful for the blast of cool air through her chemise, tempering her and focusing her.

Marcus was holding her flush to him when he pulled away from her mouth. Suddenly she began to feel very nervous, fearing that he was about to reject her. "Marcus?" she breathed.

"Kate, I..." He trailed off, touching her cheek and neck lightly. "It's late. We should both get some sleep."

Kate bit her lip, a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Have I been too forward?" she asked.

Some realization dawned on him, clearly showing in his eyes. "Oh, my darling," he said softly. "That's not - Kate, you're tired." He stroked her cheek. "When I take you to bed, I'll not have you compromised in any way. I don't want to give you something to regret."

And there it was. Kate nodded silently, fingering the collar of his shirt. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, but she had so many regrets in her life already. He did not want to be listed among them, and Kate understood. She did not want to regret him either.

Marcus tipped her chin up and made her look at him. "You need your rest," he said.

"It's so cold in there."

He nodded, and she saw him swallow hard. "It wouldn't be if I..."

Kate raised a brow. "You just said -"

"I know." Marcus kissed her softly. "I can control myself."

He said it with a small smirk that made her laugh. When she smiled at him, he stood and carried her back to bed.

When Marcus awoke in the morning, it was quiet, but he didn't notice that the winds were no longer howling.

He was aware, even before he opened his eyes, that he was in his own bed for the first time in a few days. He looked, and the previous night came back as quick as a flash of lightning.

He was still a little surprised that Kate had consented to spend a night in bed with him.

He remembered climbing into bed with her but keeping as much distance as he could while still sharing warmth with her. During the night, they'd turned to each other, and he dimly recalled waking to set his arm around her and draw her closer. One of her legs was hooked over his now, and for all the world it felt like a lovers' embrace.

Kate stirred and woke, and for a moment his heart stopped. Then she looked at him and smiled, before she blushed and hid her face in his chest. He could only chuckle and kiss the top of her head. "Good morning," he said. "Did you sleep well enough?"

She smiled at him shyly, and she rolled to her back, letting his arm rest across her stomach. As Marcus looked at her, her smile faded, replaced by a look of longing that grew more intense with every silent moment that passed between them. Even though he knew he ought to resist, ought to get them out of this temptation, he slowly leaned down to kiss her.

It took all his control, but he kept the kiss soft and tender, little more than brushing his lips against hers. It was Kate who pushed things further, wrapping an arm around his neck and deepening the kiss.

Marcus shifted, lying mostly on top of her, and his kisses changed, now hungry and deep. The bed and the blankets were soft and warm, cocooning them in utter seclusion from the world and encouraging each touch. Her foot slid up his leg until he groaned. Kate's fingers started working the buttons of his shirt, until he had to pause in his attentions to her mouth to help her rid him of it. Marcus stilled and watched her face as she got her hands on his body. The whole town had seen him without a shirt on - the hazard of his work and the summer heat - but it was something completely different to watch as the woman he loved so deeply touched him for the first time. And the touch of her soft, soft hands against his arms and chest was more arousing than he'd dreamed possible.

He kissed her fervently then, trying to tell her with hands and lips what his words could not say. She deserved nothing less than eloquence, but he didn't have words of poetry. He only had a heart full of love for her, and this chance to show her.

He could feel the heat of her body through her chemise and her bosom pressed against his chest every time she took a gasping breath, but it wasn't enough. He let his hand wander down her body till he found that the skirt of her chemise had pooled around her waist. He hesitated for just a moment before slipping his hand under the fabric, slowly moving up the smooth plane of her stomach till his hand cupped her breast.

"Marcus," she breathed, sounding desperate as she clung to his shoulders. "Want you so much."

He began to move against her, though the constriction of clothing was growing painful. She made tiny sounds of pleasure with each move of hips and hand, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I've waited so long to hear you say that," he said. Her fingernails started to dig into his shoulders. "Wondering what it might be like if you let me into your bed. I love you so much, Kate."

But as she gasped out her reply, there was a banging sound that seemed to shake the whole house. Marcus yanked himself back from Kate's body, his awareness suddenly expanding, and he finally realized that the world outside the house was quiet.

The storm had passed.

The banging came again, and he realized someone was knocking at the door. Hurriedly Marcus grabbed his shirt from where Kate had tossed it and pulled it on as he headed to the front of the house. She was already reaching for her own clothes, almost frantically. After a storm like this one, it was likely that the townsmen were going from house to house trying to make sure everyone had made it to shelter.

He paused and made sure his shirt covered the most damning evidence of what had been interrupted before he opened the door. John Sheppard and Rodney McKay were on the other side. "Lorne," Sheppard said, "get your boots and coat. We can't find Miss Heightmeyer. She's not in her house or with Miss Weir or Miss Fraiser or the Becketts."

Marcus felt his face heating slightly. He thought about saying that Kate had come to check on him before the sun rose, but she'd probably be more upset with him for lying than for telling these two men what had happened. "She's here," he said as calmly as he could. "We were on our way to Vala's when the storm hit. I didn't think the storm would last more than a few hours, and this was the nearest place to wait it out."

Sheppard's face had gone dark while McKay's jaw dropped. "She's been here with you for three days?" McKay demanded.

Marcus tried not to grind his teeth together. "It's not like I did this deliberately," he protested. "And by the time I realized that the storm wasn't letting up, there was no way I was letting her out into it."

"Marcus?"

He turned while the other two men looked around him, and he saw Kate coming out of the hall that led to the bedroom. She was fully dressed, though she also had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It was still rather cold in the house. Her beautiful hair was hanging loose down her back, something which the other two men had probably never seen. "I heard voices out here," she said. "Is something amiss?"

"Some of us were concerned when there was no answer at your house, Miss Heightmeyer," Sheppard said. "Would you like us to escort you back to your home?"

She smiled but shook her head. "Thank you very kindly, Mr. Sheppard, but no," she replied. "I have a few more things to do before I'm quite fit to be seen out of doors."

Sheppard nodded. "Well, we'll leave you to it," he said, "and let the others know you found shelter during the storm."

Kate nodded. "Thank you."

The two men nodded and left then. By the time Marcus got the door closed behind them and turned around, Kate was already sitting and slipping her shoes on. While Kate went back to the bedroom for something, Marcus got his shoes and coat on, intent on escorting her home. She emerged with her hair all elegantly pinned up, and he wondered how long it would be before he saw it down again.

"There's really no need for you to walk me home," Kate said when she retrieved her own coat. "It's not far."

For a moment, Marcus thought she was trying to push him away after he'd been so forward with her just a little while earlier. "Are you sure?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm sure you want to check to see that nothing in your shop was damaged during the storm," she said.

She came up to him and kissed him once, lightly, and then she was gone, leaving him feeling cold and strange. He stood perfectly still for a moment, not sure what he was supposed to do, but knowing he needed more than that. In a heartbeat, he'd yanked the door open and started to run after her in the snow.

"Kate!" he called. She was only halfway across the street when she turned around to look at him. Other people were starting to emerge from the houses and shops where they'd been stuck for three days, but he didn't care. "Kate, please," he said.

"What is it?" Kate asked, looking a little alarmed.

He took her hands in his. "These last three days, I... I've realized how much I need you, more than I've ever needed anybody. And it's not just what happened this morning. It's everything. I need you, Kate, I want you, and I don't want to wait any longer."

"Marcus," she said.

"Marry me," he whispered. "Today. Please."

Kate smiled then and kissed him in front of God and everyone, and that was all the answer he would ever need.

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Part II